Until the Last Petal Falls
by kirby1991
Summary: The story of Finn in Rachel. It's a mixture of AU/future. Some characters from high school may play a small role; however, for the most part, it will strictly focus on them and the news she's received at the beginning of the story.
1. Chapter 1

_This story is set in AU; that stands for alternative universe. However, only certain elements of the story are set differently. The following takes place between Finn Hudson and Rachel Berry, sometime within a five year span of high school graduation. _

_Chapter One_

"Cancer? So…won't you like, lose your hair?"

"Yes, Finn. If I go through with the treatments."

"But I love your hair…" He leaned forward and gently ran his finger under a curl. It was so light and bouncy, and always impeccably clean. It was one of the thousands of things he loved about her. She gently pushed his hand away. "I know, Finn. But that's not important right now," she reminded him. He nodded, rather solemnly.

She'd just gotten back from the doctor. She hadn't been feeling…well, herself lately. She was having inexplicable pains. It was a shame she had to find out about those pains on her anniversary night. She couldn't even enjoy the sweet gestures he'd done for her. Instead, she'd curled up into a ball. The pain was immense. He was terrified to touch her.

"Maybe they misdiagnosed you," he offered.

"They ran five tests. I think they would have _some_ degree of certainty…" She trailed off. How would she tell her co-workers? Her understudies? She had trained months for her part. Now she risked losing it over something that was out of her control. "This wasn't my fault, was it? I-I didn't hurt you, did I?" He looked at her with puppy-dog eyes. It was typical of him to internalize the guilt. She turned around, her hands gently cupping his face. She pressed a lingering kiss to his forehead. "_None_ of this is your fault," she said quietly. It nearly broke her heart. "Please don't blame yourself." She stood for a few moments, just like that. As hard as it would be for her, it would probably be equally hard for him. That nearly killed her.

Hesitantly, he took her hand and brushed the pad of his thumb inside of her palm. He knew that always calmed her down. "I love you," he reminded her. He didn't to remind her. He enjoyed doing it, though. It made her smile. "I love you, too," she said, kissing his forehead again.

Suddenly, the thought of children crossed his mind. He wasn't sure why. It seemed like peculiar timing. "So, will our kids have it, too?" He looked at her curiously. "Finn…" she said immediately. Children weren't anywhere in her future. Even the thought of conception hurt. She wasn't sure how the actual process would have worked. "Finn, sweetie. I don't…" She paused. He was looking at her. It was the look he got when he didn't understand something, or when he was _trying_ to understand something. "I don't think we can have kids." She sat on his lap, resting her head on him. She was exhausted already. "Right now," she added, strictly for comfort. She couldn't simply leave him with the idea that it would never happen.

A deep frown tugged at his lips. "No kids?" He looked at her incredulously. They talked about it tons before. He wanted a little boy, whose name was Thor. (The name, of course, was still under heavy debate.) She wanted a little girl. She didn't know the name yet. She looked back at him. "Please don't give me that look," she asked. Her face had a pout. It wasn't the playful one she usually had. It was a more serious one now. "We can talk about it later," he said. He knew that it would be _much_ later.

She _really_ wasn't feeling well. She wasn't sure whether it was just nerves, or part of the diagnosis. "Can you go make some tea?" she nearly whispered. He gently laid her down, resting her head on a pillow. He wasn't entirely sure how to make tea; he had watched her a thousand times before. The tea-making part wasn't the thing that captivated him, though. He was always too focused on her. Now, he was almost cursing himself for it. So, he took a guess. He let the tea bags dangle in the pot of water, heating it up. It seemed to work.

"No sugar," she said. He sighed and stayed in the kitchen. This was going to be a long night.


	2. Chapter 2

_Chapter two_

Sleep. It was the one place she wouldn't be in pain, or at least any that she could feel. He hovered over her, still a bit scared to touch her. His gaze landed on her hand. More specifically, her left one. It landed squarely on her ring finger, which was now bare. Her fingers were too swollen to wear her engagement ring, but they both knew who belonged to the other one.

He lightly, very lightly, brushed his hand on her arm. Her skin was losing its natural softness. That worried him. Maybe it was the medicine? Maybe they needed to buy a new soap? Everything she did would worry him now. What if there was something they could do to make it go away? He didn't know. He was scared to ask.

"Rachel?" he asked quietly. She remained asleep. That was unusual, too. She was a notoriously light sleeper. "_Rachel_," he said again, a bit more firmly. Nothing. He shook her and her eyes shot open, sitting straight up. "What? What's wrong?" Her voice melted into panic. "N-nothing I…" He looked down bashfully. She sighed, irritated but understanding. Her hand searched in the dark for his, already knowing what the problem was. "It's just sleep," she promised him. "I'm just sleeping, like I do every other night." She rubbed his arm affectionately. "Right here next to you. I promise." He licked over his lips and nodded, giving her a goodnight kiss. She carefully laid down how she was, her back pressed into him.

He swallowed nervously. The moon was hitting her just right, her skin reflecting and acting as a small flashlight. It made him smile a little. He wrapped his arm over her and she took it immediately. She loved that feeling. She kissed his arm a few times, trying to comfort him. "You should sing something," he finally said, to break the silence. Her tiny fingers ran along the length of his arm. "_Oh my man I love him so…_" He grinned, placing a few soft kisses to her back before his eyes closed on their own. He was soon asleep.

She waited until she knew he would be. It usually didn't take long. He always asked her to sing to him. She was fairly talented at deciding when he would fall asleep by now. She eventually closed her eyes, linking their fingers together. She fell asleep to the sound of his breathing. It was oddly comforting.

_The next morning…_

He awoke to an empty side of the bed. He was used to that. She was an early riser. He yawned, looking around. The windows and curtains were open; the birds were chirping. He rubbed a hand through his hair. It must have been a long night. He couldn't remember the last time he slept that late.

"Rach?" he said as he trudged out of bed. He was wearing only his cowboy boxers, the ones with the little Indians on them. She'd gotten them for him for Hanukkah. There was no answer. He stepped outside his room. The smell of pancakes wafted through the air. He sighed and hurried downstairs.

There she stood, in the kitchen. "What are you doing?" he asked, surprised. She was really going to stand over a hot stove and make breakfast for him, even after the news she had just received? He would have kissed her like a madman if he thought it wouldn't hurt her. "Making you pancakes!" she exclaimed, surprised that he was surprised. He shook his head. Maybe yesterday had just been a horrible dream. He couldn't jump to conclusions…he needed a test run. "But you're sick…"

"I'm not _that_ sick."

"You're sick enough that you need…chemir…chemir…"

"_Chemotherapy,_" she corrected him. "And I don't even know if I'm going to do it." He froze. "Wait, what?" He walked over beside her. She was wearing his robe. He wanted to smile, but he couldn't. "What do you mean you're not going to do it? It'll help you." She was growing slightly irritable. Usually, the mornings were her time to relax and get everything in order. But he was up and at 'em today. "It will also make me lose my hair. I'll become sick all the time." She stirred the batter a bit more vigorously. "We won't be able to…" She paused, hesitating at her next words. "We wouldn't be able to have children _period_. It causes mood-swings, headaches…" She rambled on for a few seconds. She was more trying to convince herself rather than him.

"I'll quit," he said after a moment of silence. "I'll quit work. They don't need me there." She remained focused on her pancakes. He figured that a fry cook's job was replaceable. He hated it, anyway. "Don't quit because of me." He blinked a few times. "You make it sound like you're second-rate or something…" She poured the batter into the pan and sighed, turning around to face him. "I don't want this to put us on hold. When you face a new challenge, you buck right up and keep going, right?" He sighed. This wasn't a "challenge." This was life or death.

"Yeah, but you can't pretend like it's not a problem, either. You have to take precautions. I _can't_ lose you," he said firmly. She licked over her lips and kept her gaze on the pancakes. "You're not going to lose me. I'm not going anywhere." She shooed him off to the dining room. "Come on. You want to eat, don't you?" He shook his head. She was deflecting. He walked into the next room (just to make her happy) and sat, waiting for her to join him.

"You're scared."

"I'm not _scared_. Rachel Berry doesn't get scared."

"Scared isn't bad. Sometimes it makes us do things we wouldn't normally do."

"You mean the bad kind of scared, Finn."

"Well, you should be scared. I would be scared. I would have pissed myself already." He gently pushed her hair back. "But you know why I'm not? Because I have you. And I'm thankful for that." She paused. Her eyes brimmed with tears. People always assumed that he was void of intelligence, or at the very least a relevant opinion. But then…he said things like that, and her troubles melted away for a while.

She leaned forward and kissed him before pushing his plate to him. "Eat," she said. "We're going to have a busy day. My first treatment was moved to today."


	3. Chapter 3

_Chapter three_

"What's this?" Finn asked as he flicked the bag. She flinched. "That's the medicine," she said, starting to grow impatient. He was acting so nervous. She was at least able to calm herself down before they arrived at the doctor's office. Him? He was talking a mile a minute. "Oh…_that?_" His gaze followed the line that was leading into her arm; at the end, a long syringe protruded from just under her skin. It looked painful.

"Does it hurt?"

"Well, obviously it does a little…" She gently rubbed over it, her gaze now fixated on it. He frowned. "Is there anything I can do to help?" He would have taken it and put it in his own arm if he could, but that wasn't an option; or, at least a smart one. "Finn, we need to talk."

"About what?"

"I need to…" She paused after a long moment. This was going to be harder than she thought. "I've just been thinking a lot lately, about this. About us." She looked at him. Maybe he would understand where she was going? She wasn't sure. "Finn I-" Just as she began to speak, the doctor came in, and his attention was turned on that. "Everything going all right in here? You should be finishing up, soon. We didn't want to overwhelm you on the first try, we're just going to fight this as aggressively as we can." She nodded in understanding. That would probably mean a lot of her experiences would be cut short, or unable to happen at all.

"What were you saying?" He turned back to her, a small smile on his face. He leaned over, gently kissing her cheek. "Your first treatment's almost done. I'm so proud of you!" He rubbed her arm affectionately. To say that he was proud was a huge understatement. He could have had a huge, golden statue built of her and it wouldn't have felt like enough. "Where do you want to go to celebrate?" He didn't realize the effects of the chemo, and why celebrating was, to say the least, inappropriate. "I don't think that will work," she said simply. "I just want to go home." He nodded a little, clearly disappointed but understanding nonetheless.

_After returning home…_

She felt sick. Rachel Berry _rarely_ felt sick. (There was once, when they'd run out of her protein supplement at the market, and she couldn't eat it for a week. That was torture.) In general, however, she was always healthy. The key to good health, after all, was a rigorous exercise routine and healthy diet. Or so she thought.

"This was probably inherited," the doctor explained. She wasn't buying it. There had to be a mistake. Nope. No mistake. Just cancer.

Back to the present, however. She walked over and immediately slumped down on the couch. Her body crumpled in-half. She was pale, which was unusual because of her complexion. Her whole body hurt. It was similar to being hit by a truck, if the truck was carrying an entire shipment of flu vaccines that had somehow broken, then spilled out onto the street coming into direct contact with her.

"Finn?" she croaked. Boom. He was right there. (Almost like one of those dogs that could fetch beer, or soda, or whatever you wanted.) "What is it?" he asked as he knelt down beside her, gently pushing her hair back. "Can you get a rag? I'm warm." She wasn't warm at all, actually. Her skin was cool to the touch and she had little bags under her eyes.

He scurried off immediately, grabbing the largest, coldest rag he could find. He walked back, placing it on her head, over her eyes. She sighed contently. _Heaven,_ she thought. He was curious now, though. He sat next to her, his hand on her knee. "What did you want to talk about?" he asked, nervously. She didn't answer for a while. She was just as nervous as he was.

"I think we need to…" She paused again. She kept doing that. As much as he loved her, it was aggravating him. "I think we need some space," she finally said. _Space_? he thought. That seemed a little…harsh. "What do you mean? I can sleep on the couch," he offered. That seemed appropriate. He didn't want to risk hurting her, anyway.

"No, Finn. Not that kind of space."

"…Break-up space?" She hesitated again. It sounded a lot worse than she figured it would. That made it harder. "Yes," she said shakily.

He sat for a long while. He had the same feeling she did, minus the bags under his eyes. "I…" For the first time, he was at a loss for words. She sucked her lip in, nervously chewing on it. She tried to take his hand and he quickly jerked it away. "Please try to understand why I'm doing this," she whispered. That wouldn't help. He really couldn't even begin to think of a reason. "I still love you-"

"Don't."

"Finn, please-" He cut her off again, putting his hand up. He began to pace. His chest was rising and falling at a rapid rate. She'd never seen him so visibly frustrated. (Not since high school, anyway.) "Did I do something wrong?" He couldn't help but ask. It was usually his fault, or at least he felt like it was. She peeled the rag off her face, trying to gather the strength to stand. "No, you did nothing wrong." She was halfway off the couch when he stopped her. "You're sick," he said simply. "Just…stay there. I'll be okay." She looked at him with big, hurt eyes. "You're not even going to listen to me?" Her lip tugged into a pout. "I don't _want_ to do this…"

He looked at her incredulously. "If you don't want to, then don't. I don't want to. And the doctor said you needed a support system…" She shook her head. It wasn't that simple. Nothing was, anymore. More than anything, he needed to understand that. "We've gone through so much of our relationship together. We've faced so many things…never anything like this." He waited for her to continue. What was this compared to anything else? Sure, it was cancer, but he just wasn't able to see the logic. "I guess what I'm asking," she finally said, "is that you make this as painless as possible. We can still be friends."

That hurt. Friends…well, most of them, didn't have the history they did. They didn't become "unofficially" engaged; they didn't dedicate themselves to each other in high school. He sat for a few more minutes, clenching his knee. The room had undergone an eerie silence. It was like one of those horror movies, on the part right before the villain jumped out and cleaned house. (It was just a lot cleaner.) "I'm just going to go."

He didn't say bye. He didn't leave slowly. He just got up, and left. She was alone again. So was he. It was really only just beginning.


	4. Chapter 4

_Chapter four_

He wasn't even sure where he was going. She wasn't either, but she hated doing that to him. It was worse than any cancer diagnosis. He couldn't shake the feeling, especially now, that it was because he wasn't good enough for her. In truth, he always felt that way. He just never had the stones - or a good enough reason - to admit it.

As he slid inside of the cab, hundreds of thoughts began bubbling in his mind. The first was that he had nowhere to go; the second was that he didn't have his wallet to pay cab fare. That was embarrassing. He'd have to go back there, and she probably would have yelled at him for leaving. He quickly got back out, leaving a confused (and rather angry) cab-driver behind. He thought, though, that the man probably had hundreds of stranger stories to tell at the dinner table.

He sulked back home. The rain was steadily pouring. It was strange, considering it hadn't been raining much in a while. It seemed to fall at the most inopportune time. It wasn't even a calming rain, like the kind that you call fall asleep to. It felt like a hundred little pennies being shoved in his face. On top of that, he had to muster the courage to go back inside the house. He wasn't sure what he would find there. Would she be crying? Would she have packed all of his things already? Would she be upset at all? He hoped so; not a malicious way. It just would have shown that she cared. That's really all he wanted.

The door slowly began to open. Her head shot up. _No way he'd be back this soon_, she thought. He was. "Forgot my wallet-" he muttered out before she was right there. Even when she was sick, she could still walk fast. His mind was a bit blown, but he wasn't saying so. She wasn't letting him leave this time, at least not without an explanation. "We need to talk about this," she said firmly. He was aware of this attitude. It was one she rarely got, but when she did…well, look out. It never ended well. (At least not for whoever it was aimed at.)

"What's there to talk about? You don't want to be with me anymore."

"I still love you."

"Then why do I need to be apart from you?"

"You don't understand…" That did it. He loved her, enough that he'd walk to China and back. He hated the way she did that, though; trying to simplify everything, or make it seem less significant because "he wouldn't understand". His eyes filled with hurt at that moment, and she recognized immediately. _Time to take a step back_, she thought. "What wouldn't I understand?" he asked calmly, his voice also laced with hurt. She had to be gentle, she knew that.

"I don't want to feeling like you have to take care of me," she admitted, much to her own dismay. It was the truth. She hated asking for help. If there was one thing she'd always learned throughout her life, it was that getting what was rightfully yours, or getting anywhere you wanted to go, meant having to get there yourself. No exceptions. Her statement confused him. They were in love, weren't they? That meant team-work.

"It's not an obligation," he said finally. "I want to do it. I want to see you get better. I don't want you facing this alone." He took a long pause. "And I won't let you," he finally said. As it would turn out, they had the same level of perseverance, and the same idea that if you wanted what was yours, or what you felt like you deserved, then you had to fight for it. He was more than willing to do that for her.

She wrinkled a brow at him. He was charming. Charming, but frustrating. How would he really stand there and suggest that he wasn't going anywhere, when she suggested (demanded) that he did? Was he crazy? "You want to take care of me?" He simply nodded. "You're my fiancé," he added. His demeanor was almost that of Forrest Gump's. Everything had a simple philosophy behind it. There was no reason to get wrapped around things, or to overcomplicate them. It distracted from the main goal; that goal was her.

She folded her arms and sighed. Clearly, he wasn't interested in any type of negotiation. "Go sit down," he finally said. "I bet you're hungry." She blinked a few times. He rarely cooked, mostly because she insisted on doing it so much. She slowly made her way back to the couch, watching him walk away. He was practically oozing with confidence. It was…frustrating, yet oddly attractive. She shook her head. Now was _not_ the time to be thinking about how attractive he was. …Was it?

After several smoke alarms, as well as two bowls of vegetable soup, he finally had it. He secretly wondered why it was so hard to make. After all, it was broth and vegetables. He knew it would help her, though, and that she wouldn't argue its numerous health benefits. Anything to make her happy.

She ate it without a fight. She felt bad; seeing him scramble around the kitchen to turn the smoke detector off, and insisting that she not help must have been embarrassing. The least she could do was eat the soup. Surprisingly, it was actually good. He fed her a few bites. "You don't have to do that," she said, trying to take the spoon away. He shook his head. "Want to," he said simply. She watched him carefully as he fed her. Was he up to something? Was he going to leave anyway? She didn't want him to, of course. She wanted to give the illusion that she didn't need him.

He chuckled. "Why are you staring at me like that?" he teased. "You only do that when I have something on my face, or when you're in the mood." She playfully pushed him. "Well, you do have something, right there," she said, wiping his dimple with her thumb. Their eyes locked, time-traveling all the way back to their first kiss. They were sitting at just the right distance. All they needed was the execution. He licked over his lips. "Remember that time we-" His question was interrupted by her lips, half-crashing into his.

His eyes widened, then closed; his eyebrows raised, then lowered. She wasn't usually quite so spontaneous. He was pretty sure that she had her routine for the day timed to the second. The thought scared as well as amused him, mostly because he thought she did for him, too. He leaned forward for a moment, reciprocating before he carefully wrapped his arms around her, minding her back.

Soup didn't seem like such a big deal now.


	5. Chapter 5

_Chapter five_

She would have been lying if she said it didn't hurt. That wasn't the only problem, though. She _wanted_ to be with him, in that way, but something that she had no control over was preventing her from doing it.

He was surprisingly sweet about it. He offered several times to stop; she insisted. It wasn't necessarily a pleasurable experience, for the most part. He couldn't enjoy himself because she couldn't. He felt like a criminal. "I shouldn't," he kept saying, almost insisting. She didn't let him. "_Finn_," she said, gently urging him. "It's okay. We can't really stop now, anyway." He nodded and proceeded forward.

She clutched the blanket to her chest, both of them sitting up now. He had a strange look on his face. She had to be the one to break the silence. "It wasn't your fault," she finally said. "You didn't do anything wrong." He was having a hard time believing that, even if he wasn't the one who started it. He sighed, shaking his head a little. "I just wish there was some way I could make it better for you, you know? Like…I don't know, taking your spot."

She blinked a few times, touched, but still upset at his words. "And why would you do that?"

"Because we both know what you're destined for, and it's not fair to you to have to put your dreams on-hold for something like this."

"That's not true, Finn. You know it's not."

"Then tell me where I'm going to wind up, then? Because being a fry-cook isn't exactly what I was tailored to do." She bit her lip, frowning at his words. He always had this problem, doubting himself. "Besides," she offered, "if it was you in my position, it wouldn't even be…well, you know. You wouldn't _want_ to do it."

He laughed at her words; it wasn't the timing, or anything, but the words himself. He always wanted to be with her. "I think we need some sleep," he finally said. She nodded in agreement. It had been quite a stressful day, to say the least. Thank God she didn't have to deal with chemo for another two months.

_A few weeks later…_

The chemo finally started to wear off a few days later. She still felt strange, though. Something wasn't quite right, but she didn't want to tell Finn that. He would have worried even more. He'd been researching like a demon on all of the side-effects of it, and made it an almost hourly thing to make sure she was feeling okay.

Most of the time, she just lied. She didn't have the heart to see him getting even _more_ worried. Especially now, after what was supposed to make her feel like herself again wasn't working. She had to be careful and plan her appointment to the doctor. He was home a lot more, now, and didn't like letting her go anywhere alone. Some might call it overprotective, but he imagined the worst possible outcome whenever she was out of his sight. She was his main and really only concern.

"I'm going to the store," she said plainly. He hated shopping. She knew that would be her only chance of getting out of there without him. He looked up from his game and nodded. "Can you get a quart of ice cream while you're out?" He batted his lashes at her. She didn't eat dairy, but she would do it for him if it meant staying home. "Of course." She pattered over and gave him a kiss, sucking her own in after she was done. "I love you," they said simultaneously.

Eventually, she arrived at the doctor's office. It was a dingy little place, but she knew the woman well. Most of the wallpaper in the office needed to be stripped, and she wasn't sure if the receptionist was even alive half the time to know what was going on. "Rachel Berry," she said as she checked in. She was greeted with a halfhearted smile, and directed to a row of chairs.

Soon, her name was called and she found herself sitting in an office; it was much nicer than the actual outside. That made her wonder, but she didn't vocalize it. "Hello, Rachel," said Doctor Henderson. "I see your treatments have been going well." She smiled, relieved to see a smiling face. "Very." She paused, hesitant at her next words. "But something doesn't…" She trailed off for a moment. "Something still doesn't _feel_ right," she admitted. The doctor looked at her curiously, allowing her to elaborate. "I haven't been…" She made a weird gesture with her hand. "I'm…_late,_" she said, under her breath; the thought momentarily escaped her that she was talking to a doctor.

She raised an eyebrow. "We'll need to get some blood-work done. If you stay, I can have it for you in under an hour." She couldn't argue. She wanted to make it a one-time-kind-of-trip. Soon, she had the syringe in her arm, her blood being taken back to a lab. She gently drummed her fingers on the desk, sucking her lips in. She wasn't sure what to expect. This was new territory to her. She was usually quite serious about her health; now, she found herself not knowing what to do.

"Rachel?" said the doctor as she walked back in. "Do you prefer a boy, or a girl?" She looked at her, in pure confusion. "I…well, girls are much more eloquent, I suppose. Why?" The doctor simply smiled, handing her back the paper.

That question would have to be one she thought a lot of now, seeing the lab summary.


	6. Chapter 6

_Chapter six_

"You didn't get the ice cream," Finn noted. She sighed and rolled her eyes. She, in reality, didn't care about ice cream. "Sorry," she said as she pattered into the kitchen, laying her purse down. "I…must have forgotten." Her head was practically spinning, but she didn't want him to know. Not yet, anyway. "You didn't get anything," he said, looking at the empty counter. When Rachel grocery shopped, she grocery shopped.

"Finn," she said, growing impatient already. "I decided that I wanted to go on a walk, instead." He wrinkled his eyebrows. "Is it 'cause you didn't do it this morning? I know how you are about your routine."

She woke up every morning and did ten to thirty lunges, depending on her mood; she followed it with thirty minutes on the elliptical and ten minutes of weight-lifting. It sounded more intense than it actually was. She'd gotten used to it.

He spotted the paper on the counter, his eyes locking on that. _Rookie mistake_, she thought. She had no excuses for that one. He picked it up and read over it; he wasn't really sure what any of that meant. H-hormones, or whatever the paper said, were a bit too confusing for him. "What's this?" he said, thankfully overlooking the lab summary. She snatched it away, or tried to. "N-nothing, I just needed another test done to see…" He didn't hear anything after that.

"I thought you said I could come with you when you got your chemo done?"

"It was chemotherapy," she said gently. She could see the look on his face. "Then what was it?" She had to think of something, and quick. He scanned over the paper again. This time, he couldn't miss the paragraph at the bottom.

_Patient is presenting typical signs of pregnancy. Lab results show that she is anywhere from two to three weeks into the first stages of pregnancy. Hormones are elevated; she presented nausea, headaches and an overall "different" feeling._

He blinked a few times. "…With a human baby?" It was all he could say. Her eyes filled with tears and she nodded, instantly wrapping her arms around his neck. It was sort of a flashback for him, all the way back to his sophomore year of high school, when Quinn informed him that she was pregnant. It was different this time, though. He stood, his mouth slightly agape. He'd gone pale, and his mouth felt dry.

"I…"

"I know, I'm sorry, Finn." She buried her nose into his neck. Why was she apologizing? "Stop," he said quickly. His arms wrapped around her. "Stop apologizing. We didn't do anything wrong." They stood that way for a few minutes. The shock was settling in, comfortably, making its way into both of them. Words couldn't be enough, at least not at the time.

"I want to see…it," he said, pausing on his wording. She pulled away. "It's not big enough to see, Finn. We won't be able to until about six or eight weeks." That was another month of waiting. If it was possible, he would have made her have the baby right then, but he couldn't. A thousand questions rushed into his mind.

"Is it a boy or a girl?" He followed her into the living room, taking a seat next to her. She couldn't help but laugh, but her next bit of news wouldn't be quite as cheerful. She carefully took his hand, her other one instinctively resting over her stomach. "I'm not sure if the baby will even live long enough." She sucked in her lip. "I-I'm too sick." She looked at him, clearly heartbroken.

He didn't see it that way, though. "Well why not? We um…we made it, didn't we? All we have to do is take care of it." It was somewhat adorable, but it would be even harder when something _did_ happen, which she was already warned of.

"_Women with your type of cancer rarely reproduce. You were lucky you were even able to conceive. If you want, we can abort the baby before it becomes too big of an issue."_ She could hardly believe what she was hearing. Being pregnant was one thing; being pregnant with cancer, she thought, was another.


End file.
